


All Part of the Creative Process

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike and William have an album to write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Part of the Creative Process

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before TAI broke up and RUINED EVERYTHING EVER, and so, you know. I'll be in the corner sobbing.

  
“If you think about it…”

“Which I won’t.”

“…you’d see that…”

“No, I won’t.”

“…it’s really quite…”

“William.” Mike waits the two beats it takes for William to realize that he’s been addressed. William looks up, blinking behind his glasses. For a second the light reflects off of them, bright and sharp. “Stop talking.”

“I’m not talking.”

“You’re not talking. No. You’re pontificating. Remember the agreement we have about pontificating?”

“Ah, yes.” William adjusts his glasses and leans back on Mike’s couch. “The great pontification debate of 2007.”

“Which I won.”

“Only on TV. On the radio everyone assumed I swept the floor with you.”

“Everyone was wrong. I won. Fair and square. We’re not changing the song.”

“You’re a cruel and heartless beast, Michael Carden, and I might hate you.”

“You don’t hate me. You wish you could hate me.”

“I’ve hated you in the past.”

“That wasn’t hate. That was jealousy.” Mike bites into his apple and chews, watching William pick at the threads on one of the throw pillows. “But you don’t have to be jealous anymore. We’re a team now, Beckett. We’re not in competition anymore.”

“No, but you’re still an asshole.” William rubs the bridge of his nose, just above his glasses and then tosses his notebook on the couch beside him. “You know what we need?”

“More booze than is currently to be found in the state of California?”

“Besides that.”

“Nope. That’d pretty much do it for me, actually. Whatever else you need is your own problem.”

William flips him off and goes into the kitchen, digging a water off the bottom shelf. Mike watches him, because that’s his job, at least in his head – watch out for William, make sure he doesn’t fall, always be there – and wonders briefly if they should take a break to go grocery shopping. It’s always fun to watch William react when the little lady at the corner market assumes William is Mike’s boyfriend. “We need a distraction.”

“You’re out here in California to get away from distractions.” There’s always an elephant in the room now. Christine was always there, and William told the band right away about Genevieve, but now he’s _married_ and a _father_ , and none of them are quite sure how things shake out now. Jokes die half-told and arguments stop midstream because it’s different. He’s different. Hell, maybe they all are. “Remember?”

“Your distractions are still here.”

“My distraction isn’t here right now.”

“Your distraction is going to end up washing my sheets and that makes me uncomfortable.”

“Your distractions watch Sesame Street on the couch that you and I…” That’s another thing that dies half-spoken.

William twists open his water and drains half of it, staring out the window. “What about a didgeridoo?”

“What?”

“For the third song.”

“You’ve gone completely insane, haven’t you? Like…over the edge. You now make Pete look stable and normal by comparison.”

“It would sound cool.”

“Do we know anyone who plays one? No. And if you so much as hint that just because Chiz is from Australia…” William buries his smile in his water bottle and Mike throws his apple core at him. “You are _such_ a fucker, Beckett.”

“It’s part of my charm.” He drains the last of the bottle and tosses it in Mike’s recycle bin. “Speaking of distractions.”

“I thought we got past that.”

“Gabe’s back in the states.”

“That’s not a distraction. That’s like…what are those things…national emergency. The TV thing is going to go off with that high pitched noise that freaks Sisky out.”

“And I invited him over.”

“I was wrong. I only _thought_ I hated you before.”

William laughs and sprawls across the couch. “You love me. You can’t help it. He’ll be here for dinner.”

**

It could be worse, Carden knows. Given that Emma’s a vegetarian, he’s gotten pretty good at being one too, so he’s got plenty of food that Gabe can eat. If anyone’s suffering it’s William, which is as it should be. Of course right now, dinner’s ready and on the table and the only thing missing is Gabe.

“You said he was coming.”

“ _He_ said he was coming.” William’s brow is furrowed and his face is the picture of petulance. Gabe’s not usually late, but there are a lot of people in L.A. who are making claims on his time – Pete, Victoria, Patrick, and who knows who else. William stabs a roll with his fork and shreds it. “He said he’d be here for dinner.”

“Maybe he’s still on Uruguay time. What time is it in Uruguay?”

“Who fucking knows? He’s in fucking _Los Angeles_ , so he should be on Los Angeles time, and he’s _late_.”

Mike sighs and takes a roll for himself, biting off one end of it. “He’ll be here. Relax.” William looks up at him like he might use the fork on Mike next, and Mike has to laugh. That just serves to piss William off more, but he can’t help it. “You know, ten years ago, we’d already be fighting.”

“We can fight if you’d like.”

“I’m just thinking maybe we’re, like, actually adults.”

“Bite your traitorous tongue, Mike Carden.”

Mike laughs and takes another bite of his roll. “Face it, dude. We’re the old guard now. We’re the fucking old dudes on the tour.”

“Not if we’re touring with KISS.”

“So you’re planning on booking us with The Moody Blues and Grand Funk Railroad next? Keep up the age curve?” Mike ducks the balled up bit of roll William tosses at him. “Nothing wrong with getting older, just so long as we don’t get old.”

“I don’t want to do either.”

Mike knows it’s a lie, because William likes who he is a lot better now than he ever did when he was a too-skinny kid living on caffeine, alcohol and ambition. Plus he dresses like Mike’s grandfather. “Don’t worry, before you know it, your kid’s gonna be smarter than you.”

“She’s already smarter than _you_.”

Mike nods. “Yeah. That’s a given.” The doorbell rings and he hides his smirk at Bill’s quick body jerk, getting up from the table. “Relax. We’re actually expecting someone, remember?”

“Yeah.” William nods and takes a drink of his wine. Mike can feel him watching as he walks to the door, opening it and smiling at Gabe.

“About fucking time, asshole.”

“Fuck you. I’m not the one who lives in some bumfuck assbackwards cul-de-sac in the fucking canyon. I had a fucking Garmin tell me to give it the fuck up and go back to town. She was begging me to pull a fucking U-turn in the middle of Nowhere Street and get the fuck out of this Twilight Zone. Now give me a hug, you fucker.”

Mike laughs and does, wrapping his arms tight around him. Gabe is always warm, like he’s got his own furnace going deep inside him, a sun that lights and heats him up. His skin smells like soap and sun and Mike’s missed him more than he likes to admit. “Fuck you.”

“Later. I smell food.” Gabe wraps an arm around Mike’s shoulders and comes into the house. “Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiilvy. Bilvy, baby. Come to papa.”

“That is insulting and also a little outside my comfort zone as far as fetishes go.” William leans against the doorjamb, eyeing Gabe as if he isn’t itching to launch himself into his arms. Mike snorts in disgust.

“I’ve known you too long for you to pretend there’s anything outside your comfort zone.” Gabe cocks an eyebrow and William has to fight a smile. “Are you gonna hug me or what?”

Mike disentangles himself from Gabe. He can practically see the twitch of impatience in William’s skin. “Have at it.”

William’s in Gabe’s arms before Mike even finishes his sentence, and it’s the same fierce hug Gabe had given him. Gabe stays friends with everyone, no matter what happens, but some bonds are deeper and stronger, cut from diamond instead of steel. “I was worried.”

Gabe runs his thumb down the cleft of William’s chin. “Nothing to worry about.”

“We thought Pete had kidnapped you. Or tied you up and refused to let you go.” William pauses for a minute. “On second thought, that’s what you and Pete probably do for fun. Never mind.”

“Food.” Mike shoves them both toward the table. “I didn’t fucking cook all this shit for nothing. Eat.”

**

Gabe’s sprawled on the white carpet in front of the TV, laying on his back and staring up at the wood ceiling. Mike watches him instead of the football game, looking for changes or similarities. Gabe’s growing up too, growing older. Mike can see it in the laugh lines around his eyes and the way he holds himself. The frantic energy seems subdued, but not in a way that makes Mike worry.

“Take a picture, Carden. It’ll last longer.”

“If I need pictures of you, I have my blackmail stash.”

“Kinky.” Gabe rolls onto his stomach and grins at him. “I always knew you had it in you, Carden. You just pretended to be on the straight and narrow.”

Mike flips him off and takes a pull from his beer bottle. “You wouldn’t know the straight and narrow if it came up and bit you in the ass.”

William frowns at that. “I don’t think that’s the kind of thing the straight and narrow would be apt to do.”

Gabe laughs and crawls over, leaning on William’s knees and putting his head in his lap. Mike sees William close his eyes for a moment, his breath catching in his throat and everything silent, timeless. It breaks when he moves his hand to Gabe’s head, combing his fingers through the thick curls. Gabe makes a happy murmur and presses closer to William, his own eyes closed.

Mike gives up on the game completely, arrested by the play of emotions on William’s face, by the hints of his own that Gabe gives with the crook of his mouth and the crinkle of his eyes. Mike tried to explain to someone once how performing was like a drug trip – you own the world when it all goes right. Your heart is racing. You can do anything – but afterwards, it’s like coming down hard, crashing and burning on reentry. And these times, the here and now when it’s about writing songs and recording and just being an ordinary person, these are even harder, like a junkie desperately searching for wherever his next fix might be coming from.

Gabe always makes it seem like the next idea is brewing so it doesn’t feel so desperate, so needy, and it makes Mike’s heart slow, keeps it from pounding out of his chest while they study the next step forward. Mike shakes his head and glances down, surprised to see Gabe looking at him, his dark eyes shadowed from the way the lamp’s light falls. Gabe reaches out, his long fingers tracing the curve of Mike’s knee. William keeps stroking Gabe’s hair, his own head angled down so he can watch his fingers move, watch Gabe bridge the gap between them so they’re all three connected.

Mike smiles, just enough that Gabe doesn’t move his hand. It’s easy like that, none of them moving more than needed. William’s fingers are still lost in Gabe’s thick hair, ghostly pale behind the dark strands, while Gabe’s thumb rubs a slow, methodical arc over the curve of Mike’s knee. Mike grabs the remote and turns the TV off, keying up the stereo instead.

“Watch out,” William laughs softly. “Next thing you know he’s going to be putting on Barry White and start calling us ‘baby’.”

“I’m not that hard up,” Mike shoots back. “And _baby_? Really?”

William grins and kicks Mike’s ankle lightly. “You know you would. C’mon, Carden. Call me baby.”

“Fuck you.” Mike smirks at him, turning his foot to hook around William’s ankle. Gabe’s smile stretches and his hand slips down, his palm warm through Mike’s jeans as it glides over his shin.

“No, no.” William’s eyes are bright, lit up with his real smile that means he’s relaxed. “Fuck you, _baby_.”

Mike moves his leg, pulling on William’s foot. Gabe’s hand falls away and his smile turns into a pout. It’s tempting to apologize, but Mike holds back. Gabe lifts his head to meet Mike’s gaze, and heat pools in Mike’s stomach before slipping lower, coiling at the base of his cock. Gabe has a way of looking, intense and focused, so that people feel like they’re the only ones in the room with him, in his world. He’s like that on-stage, seducing an entire room all at once.

Mike looks down at Gabe’s mouth, watching his lower lip slide out in a more exaggerated pout. “’s the matter, Gabanti?”

“Not feeling the love.” Gabe’s voice is liquid, laced with the hint of his accent.

“That’s because he loves me best,” William’s hand flexes in Gabe’s hair, and Mike’s scalp tingles, remembering the way it feels to have William’s fingers fisted in his hair, the pull of tightly curled fingers. “But then, so do you.”

“It’s too bad your self-esteem is shot, Beckett.” Mike kicks at William’s ankle. “Does your ego need stroking?”

Gabe laughs and turns his head, kissing William’s thigh. “Not his ego he wants stroked.”

William blushes and shoves Gabe away. He laughs as Gabe relaxes, flopping dramatically on the floor. Mike shakes his head, kicking Gabe’s foot. “You’re like a poor man’s Dennis Rodman.”

“Dude, Dennis Rodman is a poor man’s Dennis Rodman these days.” Gabe sits up and then climbs onto the couch, sprawling between Mike and William. “Plus I’m prettier.”

“Both of you are so fucking vain.” Mike swings his legs up, draping them across Gabe’s lap. Gabe raises an eyebrow and drops his arms across Mike’s legs. Mike smiles until he realizes what he’s done, the second Gabe’s grip tightens and he feels William’s fingers graze the bottoms of his feet. “Oh. Oh. Fuck you.” He struggles against Gabe’s hold, not to mention William’s ability – borne of years of knowing each other – to find every sensitive and ticklish spot Mike has.

“Fuck. Fuck. Jesus, Bill. Stop. Fucking…” He thrashes, trying to get loose, and Gabe lets him go. Mike feels himself falling and grabs reflexively, ending up on the floor with Gabe half on top of him, one of his knees between both of Mike’s.

William grins down at them both. “I win.”

Gabe lifts an eyebrow at Mike, part suggestion and part challenge. Mike rolls his eyes and reaches up, his hand curving around the back of Gabe’s neck and tugging him down. Gabe smiles before he’s too close to see, then his mouth is warm against Mike’s for a moment before Mike uses his tongue to trace Gabe’s lips, sliding it past them when Gabe parts them in response.

“Unfair.” William’s voice moves closer, and Mike opens one eye to see him stretched out on the couch above them. “I thought we were a team, Saporta.”

Gabe breaks the kiss and looks up at William before grabbing his hand and jerking hard, pulling him down onto the floor as well.

“Ow. Fuck.” William laughs, twisting until he’s pressed up against Mike’s side. “You need a softer floor.”

“You need to stop being such a pussy.”

“Don’t worry, Bilvy,” Gabe drawls, lowering his mouth to Mike’s neck. “Floor’s not the only thing that’s hard.”

Mike moans softly, thickly as Gabe’s teeth graze his skin, faint stubble rough against his throat. “But you’re still the only pussy.” He knows it’s a risk even as he says it, but it’s a necessary one. William is too good at punishing himself for real and imagined sins, so Mike’s learned to lay the cards out on the table. It means they fight less and he’s less likely to actually be convicted of William’s murder, but it isn’t always easy letting go of his habit of setting situations on fire just to watch them burn down. He doesn’t always succeed, but he’s getting better. Besides it’s not just him and William right now, and Mike actually prefers to keep his friends out of minefields.

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Is this the part where you two talk about your feelings and cry?” Mike wants to laugh, but Gabe’s hand is sliding down his stomach, tracing the skin where his shirt has ridden up above his jeans.

“There’s nothing wrong with negotiation,” William informs him archly, but Mike can hear the humor in his voice. He opens his eyes and watches Gabe look at William, a wicked smile on his lips. “What?”

“You guys negotiate,” Gabe says simply. “I’m gonna blow Carden.”

“That hardly seems fair.”

Mike scowls. “Shut the fuck up, Bill.”

“I mean, if I’m going to have to invoke some sort of exceptions clause…”

“Exceptions clause?” Mike has to laugh, though the sound dies off when Gabe undoes his belt. “What? You promise to love, honor, cherish and forsake all others, not including a list of the following?”

Gabe slides Mike’s zipper down. “You both talk too fucking much.”

William pouts, poking Gabe in the side. “You should at least kiss me.”

Before Gabe can respond, Mike grabs William and jerks him forward, the kiss beginning on impact with crushed lips and hard teeth. “Shut up,” Mike murmurs, sucking on William’s tongue as Gabe ignores both of them, taking Mike in his mouth.

Mike groans around William’s tongue and his hips rise off the floor, thrusting up into the heat of Gabe’s mouth. Gabe always sucks tight and hard, the prominent apples of his cheeks bright red with arousal and effort. Mike can’t watch him, but he can feel the heat against his thumb as he brushes it over Gabe’s brow down to his cheek.

William slides a leg across Gabe’s back, his toes tucked under Mike’s knee as he pulls himself closer, grinding his cock against Mike’s hip. Mike breaks the kiss to mutter an desperate curse and then kisses William again, harder, deeper, his free hand tangling in the short hair and scratching at William’s scalp as he holds him close.

Gabe groans around him, trapped between his legs and beneath William’s. Mike moves his other hand to Gabe’s hair, unable to thrust much, but Gabe’s bobbing mouth makes up for it. Tight and wet, his tongue and the roof of his mouth, the faintest hint of teeth all combined with the hot air of his breath against Mike’s slick, wet skin and the faint pressure of William’s toes against the underside of his knee, threatening to tickle him.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Mike pulls William’s head back, moving his mouth down to William’s neck so he can hear William’s soft noises as he thrusts against Mike. His dick is hard on Mike’s hip, grinding and sliding against the loosened denim of Mike’s jeans. “Fuck, Bill. Want. Fuck.”

“You going to come for him, Mike?” William’s voice gets the same rough edge after they’ve been in the studio for too long, too many takes and not enough hot tea on his vocal chords. Mike shudders, right at the edge of his orgasm. “Gonna make Gabanti suck you down?”

That’s all it takes and Mike falls. He can’t hear anything over the white noise of pleasure, the rush of blood as Gabe sucks him down. It fades as Gabe pulls off, lets him hear the last dirty phrase William mutters about tasting his come on Gabe’s tongue before they’re both gone. Gabe eases off Mike and pushes William to the floor, his hands undoing William’s jeans, his own already open, his cock out.

Mike turns on his side, watching as they slide against one another, moving together in familiar rhythm. William is kissing Gabe, doing just what he promised, and Mike can imagine the taste of his come on both their tongues. He groans and slides closer, nuzzling William’s neck and biting the curve of his shoulder, listening to him moan in Gabe’s mouth. They’re insanely hot together, William’s pale skin against Gabe’s, the swirling loops of William’s wrist tattoo fading into the dark mass of Gabe’s curly hair.

“Fuck, you two. Fucking…” Mike’s not sure what to say, so he just moves his mouth, turning to bite a matching mark into Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe shivers over William and Mike knows he’s close, so he slides his hand down, pushing Gabe’s jeans out of the way so he can squeeze the curve of his ass before slapping it once. Gabe jerks and William moans and then they bury themselves against each other, their orgasms locked between them.

After a few minutes, they ease apart, Gabe rolling over so William’s between him and Mike. He’s sprawled on his back, jeans around his knees and t-shirt wet at the bottom. “Fuck.”

“Mmmm.” William’s non-verbal after his orgasms, usually a good couple minutes of quiet. Mike’s pretty sure it’s the only time it happens.

“I expect that immortalized in song on your next album.”

Mike snorts. “Yeah, just because you kiss Pete’s ass in public doesn’t mean we have to kiss yours.”

Gabe gives him a knowing look, a dangerous one. Mike kind of gets off on it. “You sure are an asshole for a guy who just got his cock sucked.”

“He was worse before,” William reminds him. “Don’t worry. I will sing out how much I like your dick on mine.”

“Wasn’t that ‘After the Last Midtown Show’?” Mike can’t quite hide his smile as Gabe rolls his eyes. Gabe _hates_ that fucking song, but only because it’s not about him. “Oh, wait…”

“I’m calling him The Grinch from now on,” Gabe informs William, giving him a quick kiss before getting to his feet and tugging his jeans back up. “And I’m going to drink all his beer.”

“Share with me,” William calls out as Gabe goes into the kitchen. He turns his head to smile at Mike. “You know he’s staying, right?”

“Yeah,” Mike sighs, but he ruins it with his smile. “We’re never getting _any_ work done.”  



End file.
